


The Face Behind the Card

by breathmint25



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-13
Updated: 2012-07-13
Packaged: 2017-11-09 21:36:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathmint25/pseuds/breathmint25
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prequel to "The Face on the Card". The members of the Trio are getting their Chocolate Frog Card pictures taken today. Each of them has a variety of thoughts and feelings regarding this once-in-a-lifetime occasion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Face Behind the Card

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by JKR, Warner Bros., and a lot of other people/companies that are not me. 
> 
> Also this is a prequel, but totally understandable without reading the first one.

_Granger House, England_

"This is bloody ridiculous!" Hermione hissed to herself in the mirror, glaring down at her vanity table. It was covered with bottles of all shapes and sizes, the result of Hermione's rushed trip to Diagon Alley the day before. Hermione felt like a fool.

"Why do I even bother?" she muttered, annoyed at her own vanity. She had never given a damn about her looks. She had more important things to worry about—saving the world for one. But this picture…this picture was going to last FOREVER. Was it so bad that Hermione wanted to look a little bit nicer today?

For today, she, Ron, and Harry were having their Chocolate Frog Card photographs taken. This picture was going to be seen by thousands of wizards and witches for generations to come. Hermione felt the slightest bit queasy.

The only other time she had been so concerned with her looks had been at the Yule Ball. And that had been Lavender and Parvati's doing mostly. She had wanted to look nice for Viktor yes. But if she was truly honest with herself, the Bulgarian Quidditch player had not been the only boy she wanted to impress that night.

And it had worked hadn't it? Sort of. Hermione grinned, glancing at the picture on her nightstand. Ron smiled back at her out of the frame.

Dear Ron. Dear Bloody Infuriating Ron. How she loved him. And yet how he annoyed her as well. It had been two months since the Last Battle and their first kiss. Yet she and Ron seemed no closer to being officially Ron-and-Hermione than ever. Oh, they had gone on dates, sure. And was Ron was being the perfect bloody gentleman, opening doors for her and giving her chaste goodnight kisses. But it was all so WRONG. Ron was NOT a gentleman by any stretch of the imagination. She wanted full-fledged Ron back, immature, inappropriate Ron. She loved that Ron. This Ron needed strangling.

Sighing, she applied more potion to her hair. Perhaps he would take notice of her today with her different locks. Perhaps they could move past this cautious stage. Hermione knew they had both been busy, Ron with his grieving family and managing George's shop for him, her with going to Australia and settling her parents back into English life. But still, she wanted this time to bring them closer together, not pull them further apart. And what happen when she went back to Hogwarts in September? Would they be able to-?

She shook her head firmly. She wasn't going to think about any of that. Today she was merely going to smile for the camera.

_Grimmauld Place, London, England_

Harry attempted yet another futile patting-down of his hair and gave up. What was the point? Nearly eighteen years of unmanageable hair was not going to change in one day, no matter how important the picture was.

He wandered down the steps, taking in the changes the last two months had wrought. Between all his commitments, Harry had managed to do a bit of redecorating and clean up to his new home, with Kreacher's help of course.

Strange how life had gotten busier after the war, not slower as Harry had hoped. There was always something for Harry to do: funerals to attend, Hogwarts to rebuild, a godson to play with, Auror training to do, Ginny to court, and of course press to appease.

Today he, Ron, and Hermione were expected at the Chocolate Frog Card factory at 10 am sharp. Pictures were to be taken, interviews to be given, and blurbs to be written.

At least the Chocolate Frog Cards were interesting. So much of the press was boring—the same questions, the same anecdotes, the same overexuberance, the same stuffiness. Hell, even getting their Orders of Merlin had been boring—the ceremony had been so dull both he and Ron had nearly fallen asleep.

He smiled fondly, thinking of that first day of the train when he had gotten Dumbledore's card. It had never even occurred to him that he might have his own card too. And yet now, looking back, it seemed inevitable.

"I'm Harry Potter. Of course I'd have a card!" he scoffed, just to see if he could pull off the diva tone.

It didn't work. He just felt like a prat.

Downstairs his new clock started buzzing. "Time to go! Time to go! Appointment at 10 o'clock! Appointment at 10 o'clock!"

Harry sighed. The clock was ALWAYS telling him to go.

At least, the Trio was to have lunch after their appointment—just the three of them. Harry was looking forward to it. Hermione had been in Australia, Ron was managing the shop, and Harry had just plain been busy. The last time they had been able to have a quiet conversation alone had been May 2nd.

Funny how two months could seem so long, and yet go by so quickly. It was strange not seeing his best friends everyday after being around them 24/7 for so long.

Everyone wanted to see, to hear, and to know more about the great Harry Potter.

All the great Harry Potter wanted to know was how much time he would have with Ron and Hermione at lunch before someone interrupted them.

And how long would it take before he could just have some bloody peace and quiet.

_The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon_

For once there was no one banging on the bathroom door shouting at him to "Hurry the bloody hell up, Ron!"

He couldn't decide if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

On the one hand, it was a big day, so it was nice to have some extra time to prepare himself.

On the other, the more time he had, the darker his thoughts turned.

Today they were having their Chocolate Frog Card pictures taken, and Ron was a tad nervous. Mostly because he felt like he really didn't deserve this honor.

And how did he know they really wanted him? Maybe they had really just wanted Harry and Hermione, and had to include Ron for politeness' sake. Maybe Harry had bullied them into it.

He sighed. No matter how many times Harry tried to tell him otherwise, Ron still felt like a huge failure. He hadn't been there in Godric's Hollow, he had let his insecurity tear them apart, had the Horcrux control him. He was one shite of a friend.

And now he was with Hermione, what he had always wanted. But it wasn't going very well. Hermione seemed liable to chuck him at any moment. And Ron couldn't understand why, seeing as how he was being on his best behaviour on their dates.

He sat down on the side of the tub and rubbed his eyes. What would happen if he just didn't go for the picture and interviews? If he apparated straight to the shop and got to work. Merlin knew George still wasn't up to running the shop by himself. It'd probably stay closed all morning, unless Lee showed up.

But even as he entertained the thought, he shook his head. He knew what would happen. Harry and Hermione would drag him out of the shop, yell at him for being stupid, and march him straight to the factory. And he'd go willingly.

Because even if he didn't deserve it, he still wanted his own Chocolate Frog card.

He was going to be the first Weasley to have one. For the first time in his life, Ron stood out from his brothers. He was the unique one.

But it wasn't making him as happy as eleven-year-old Ron had thought it would.

He had an Order of Merlin—First Class, heaps of attention, and now a Chocolate Frog Card. But all he really wanted was for Hermione to give him one of her genuine smiles again. The kind that made his heart beat faster. He had a suspicion that if he could stand in front of the Mirror of Erised today, he'd see only Hermione and her smile in the glass.

_Diagon Alley, London, England_

"You don't need to read that."

Hermione looked up from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7 and gave Harry her patented You're-A-Stupid-Boy-Why-Are-You-My-Friend glare.

"I haven't stepped foot in a classroom for over a year, Harry. Merlin knows what I've forgotten."

"How about nothing? And you were in the best classroom of all—the real world."

Hermione sniffed as Harry sat down on the bench beside her.

It didn't surprise him in the slightest that he was the second one there. That's how it had always been: Hermione was early, Harry was on time, and Ron was late.

He was enjoying the brilliant people-watching Diagon Alley offered when he spotted a familiar head of hair. He nudged Hermione and bit back a grin when she snapped her book shut and stood up at the sight of Ron.

Gah, would his best friends ever get it together? Most people solved their are-we-or-are-we-not issues with their first kiss—Ron and Hermione had made everything MORE complicated post-war.

Still, this awkwardness was a lot more entertaining to watch that the awkwardness of 6th year. No annoying significant others around either. So Harry was patient as his friends went through their stilted greeting ritual.

"Hey Hermione. You look…well you look nice."

Hermione smiled and one hand wandered up to pat her hair. Harry was startled to realize it was smoother than normal. If one needed proof that he did not fancy Hermione, the fact that he never noticed her hair changes would be a big piece of evidence. Hermione was always Hermione to him, never-changing, straighter hair or not.

"You look nice too, Ron."

Ron looked down at his feet self-consciously. "Mum made me pass her inspection before I left."

Hermione nodded. But Harry could tell she was doing an inspection of her own.

"Sorry I'm late. Went by the shop to see if George was up."

A somber tone mood took over at this statement and Hermione reached out and patted Ron on the arm.

He gave her a quick smile. "He was up. Was actually downstairs when I came in."

They all looked slightly happier at this statement. George had been so touch-and-go lately when it came to the shop. Any day he got downstairs was a good day now.

After this announcement, Ron and Hermione continued their awkward looking-not-looking and shuffling routine for a few more seconds before Harry finally cleared his throat. They both looked at him sharply.

"Shall we go in? The faster we get done, the sooner we can have lunch."

But Hermione turned her inspection eyes to him. Before he knew what was happening, she had her hands in his hair and was attempting to flatten his locks down.

"Get off, Hermione. I already tried a million times!" But Hermione would not budge.

Ron was smirking, apparently relieved he had avoided another inspection.

"Madam Primpernelle's has to have something that will make it stay down!" Hermione exclaims exasperatedly.

And before either of them could say anything, she had disappeared into the crowd, apparently over to Madam Primpernelle's Beautifying Potions.

"I think Hermione's taking this picture a bit too seriously," Harry said to Ron.

He then realized that this was not a helpful statement as Ron had gone slightly green.

"Stop thinking, Ron. Stop it right now!" Harry knew exactly what his best mate was doing-overanalyzing. Maybe they weren't fully a couple yet, but Hermione was wearing off on him.

"But Dumbledore's got a card, Harry. I'm not in the same league as Dumbledore!"

"Dumbledore would be very glad that you're getting a Chocolate Frog Card. Left his Deluminator didn't he? And don't you remember how all he was concerned about in 5th year was that he might lose his Card?"

Ron looked like he might faint. Harry quickly led him to the bench.

"Ron, you're my best mate. There's no one else I would share this moment with. You and Hermione—you keep me sane this past year. You deserve this Card just for that—dealing with irrational, deranged Harry Potter."

"I was the deranged one."

"I'm not taking this picture without you, Ron. If you leave, I leave. And Hermione will kill us both. Do you want that on your conscience?"

Ron smiled as he shook his head.

"Guess not. Don't want Hermione more pissed at me than she already is."

Harry was about to tell Ron the real reason Hermione was pissed at him when the woman herself returned, bottle of hair gunk tucked under one arm.

"Hermione, I refuse." Harry tried to match the intensity of her glare.

Hermione was not deterred.

"Hermione, please! I won't look like me with my hair flat!"

Hermione was reading the instructions and not listening to him at all.

"I'll just make go back! I can do that you know! I've done it before!"

Hermione looked up and shook her head at him.

"You're impossible, Harry! Honestly! Fine then, have horrible hair in your picture for all eternity!"

Ron was watching the conversation as one might watch a tennis match, head swiveling back and forth whenever one of them spoke (or didn't speak). But when Hermione turned towards him, he immediately lifted his arms and covered his hair.

"My hair's fine, Hermione! Honest!"

"The most impossible boys in the world, you two are," Hermione muttered, shoving the bottle into her bag.

But still she grabbed them both and tucked her hands into their elbows. And the three of them made their way into the building arm-in-arm just like old times.


End file.
